Chapter Text
Not for the first time, Damian wonders what the fuck he’s doing here.
Well, he knows what he’s doing. Right now, he’s watching two women doing what is, to be perfectly honest, a quite arousing public scene. One of them is murmuring sweet quiet filth into her partner’s ear, as she presses all five fingertips together and slowly, carefully pushes her hand into her partner’s cunt. Damian stands a respectful distance away from the cordoned off area, watching alongside a few other scattered individuals.
Perhaps it would be more accurate to say he does not know why he is here. Although that is perhaps also a lie, as Damian is all too aware of the partial erection inside his jeans, which has been coming and going since he arrived earlier in the evening. Damian is there to get his rocks off, as Jason would so crassly put it. Perhaps a risky decision, but Damian is well versed in vanishing into the crowd. It wouldn’t do to be recognized as the Wayne heir at such an establishment, but in all his past excursions, Damian has managed to go unidentified. His partners from previous such encounters have had no suspicions, and so resulted in entirely pleasurable experiences.
But thus far tonight, nothing has seemed to entice him. He’s been propositioned twice, by entirely unremarkable individuals who were polite enough but hardly intriguing. He’s walked between various areas, looking for something to watch, for something to catch his attention. And the current scene is a beautiful show, the two women clearly having an intimate and charged dynamic with each other. But it’s not right, somehow.
Sighing, Damian glances around the room. More patrons are coming through the front door or from the side door where the locker rooms are, in ones and twos, and very occasionally, in larger groups. There’s certainly a variety of clothing choices to observe, as many are in various degrees of undress, and Damian amuses himself by people watching.
There’s a flash of bright red through the crowd, and Damian blinks. For a second, he thought he saw- no. Surely, his eyes are playing tricks on him. He steps away from the crowd observing the two women, walking alongside the wall to get a better look.
Damian sees it again, a flash of red materializing into a pair of tight shorts on a short man with pale skin and black hair. It’s all too familiar. The man glances over at a flogging scene on one stage, turning his head enough that Damian can see his face.
Damian inhales sharply. It is Tim.
Damian supposes it’s foolish to be surprised. This is the best and most well-run club of its sort in Gotham. If any of his family were inclined towards these particular activities, it was of course only a matter of time until they and Damian happened to patronize the club concurrently. Although Damian had not previously been aware of any particular proclivities of Timothy’s.
Tim doesn’t stop walking, making a beeline for the corridor at the back of the club. He moves quickly and intently, like he’s on a mission. Damian knows what’s back there, the open stalls and the glory holes. Perhaps Timothy is seeking an anonymous encounter, to receive service through one of those holes.
Or perhaps not. A thought occurs to Damian and is suddenly incredibly preoccupying. Or, perhaps Tim is after the other option and will place himself inside one of the stalls. Behind one of the glory holes. The image should be incidental. Instead, it’s unbearably arousing, and the situation in Damian’s trousers is far more uncomfortably than it was thirty seconds previously. If Damian merely walked into that area of the club, he would discover the answer, one way or the other.
It occurs to Damian that this is a terrible idea. He shouldn’t check. He should leave Timothy to his private business and find a different partner for the evening. Or else, admit that he won’t be having any luck tonight, take himself back to his apartment or to the manor, and resign himself to spending his night off alone.
Oh, but Damian does want to know which one it is. Which is Timothy’s preference for this evening? To give, or to receive? If Damian follows down that path, what will he find?
It’s suddenly become imperative for Damian to know.
Damian leaves his place in the shadows by the wall and follows Tim down the club’s back corridor. He walks slowly down the line of stalls, glancing into each one. There’s a few unoccupied glory holes as well as a few unoccupied ones, and other people in various configurations on benches or couches. There’s a handful of observers as well, standing off to the side or sitting on a bench, a few of whom are fondling themselves. The first several contain no sign of Timothy. Unless, of course, he has secreted himself behind one of the panels with a glory hole on it. If he is nowhere else in this chamber, Damian will be forced to conclude that is the case.
The thought does not at all decrease the current predicament in Damian’s trousers.
Further down the line, towards the back, one of the lights switches from off to green. It catches Damian’s eye, and he walks past the row of empty stalls towards that back corner.
Damian steps across from the stall to look inside, and oh. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t that. He’s presented with the sight of Timothy’s bare ass, as he’s bent over a piece of furniture that Damian recognizes as a spanking or breeding bench. Tim’s knees are spread apart and balanced on cushioned rests, and his face is down on the pillow, not looking up. Not seeing Damian. Tim breathes slowly and steadily, his back rising and falling in a familiar pattern. Damian also can’t help but notice Tim’s pretty, pink, puckered hole, glistening wetly from lube and slightly open and relaxed. The red shorts he was wearing earlier and a medium-sized silicone plug are set on one of the chairs in the corner.
The light on the stall is green, indicating that participants are welcome. In addition to that, there in a sign in Timothy’s handwriting hanging on one wall. The sign in its entirety reads: “Free to use.”
Damian find his breath catching at those words. So this is what Timothy needed. What he was seeking so intently as he walked down this hallway. He’s put his beautiful little hole out on public display, to be taken by anyone who cares to have it. Such a brave decision. Such a desperate one. Tim must need this so terribly much, must crave it with every fiber of his being. The thought makes Damian ache, makes his cock fill with heat and press uncomfortably against its confines.
Oh, Timothy. You want to be fucked, is that it? Would you let me do it? Would you let me inside of you, to sate your cravings? To use you like you so desperately need?
Damian steps into the stall, mere feet away from Tim’s naked body, standing off towards one side. He just stands there, transfixed by the sight of Tim in such a vulnerable, open position, utterly lost in his own thoughts. There’s the sound of footsteps coming towards them and Damian glances over. Another man approaches, reading the sign and stepping into the stall. He’s older, in his fifties at least. He gives a questioning glance towards Damian, but Damian just gives a wave of his hand, gesturing towards Tim’s prone body. The man shrugs, stepping up towards Timothy.
“Well, now. What have we got here?” The man presses his fingers against Tim’s ass, and Damian watches intently as Tim arches into the touch, pressing his ass backwards like he wants to take those fingers deeper. “Such a pretty little hole.”
The man reaches for a condom from the nearby supply, tears it open, rolls it onto his cock, and slicks up. He doesn’t waste any time, lining the head of his cock up with Tim’s hole and steadily pushing forwards. Damian watches Tim’s tiny little hole as it stretches beautifully around the man’s cock, taking it inside with ease. Tim makes this pretty little noise, soft and high-pitched, as the older man pushes all the way into his ass, bringing their hips flush together.
“Oh, what a nice hole,” the man says, groaning appreciatively. “Nice and tight for me.” He starts to fuck Tim, in hard, slapping thrusts, and Tim lets out a wanton moan. “That’s right. You just need to be used, is that it? Don’t worry, I’ll use your pretty little hole just the way you need.”
Damian sees Tim nod eagerly, making these beautiful little whimpering noises, moaning like a whore as he also gets fucked like one.
It’s one of the most beautiful things Damian’s ever seen.
Who knew Timothy was such a perfect slut, a beautiful, obedient boy, desperate for a fuck. So happy to be used by strange men, by anyone who would give him their cocks. Not even seeing their faces, just accepting what he’s given. Such a perfect whore.
The man fucking Tim groans noisily. “What a good slut you are. Such a perfect little hole.” In response, Tim gives another moan and pushes back onto the man’s cock, just like the sweet little cockslut he is.
More people have moved down to this end of the corridor now, and Damian spares them a glance. A man and a woman settle on the bench to watch, whispering quietly to each other as they watch Tim with the stranger. Another man stands just outside the stall, on the opposite side across from Damian. Then, one more man comes to the other side of the bench, wasting no time in shoving his hand down the front of his trousers. Damian turns his attention back to Timothy, who’s taking cock just like his beautiful little hole was made for it.
The man fucking Tim starts thrusting harder, and Tim just whimpers in pleasure. “That’s it, fucking take it, fuck.” The man’s body goes still, and there’s an appreciative murmur from the small gathered crowd as the first person comes inside of Tim’s sweet little hole. The first, but certainly not the last. Far from it, if Damian guesses rightly.
The man pulls out, and tugs the condom off, tucking his cock away into his clothing and tossing the condom into a nearby bin, glancing at Damian as he does so.
“He seems like he liked that,” Damian says. It comes out in a West Gotham accent, the one Damian often uses at this establishment, for the purposes of blending in. Tim does in fact appear to be in complete heaven, a relaxed, blissful look on his face that Damian’s never seen before. It’s intoxicating.
The man who was fucking Tim laughs a bit. “Oh, I know he did. His little cock is so hard, look.” He gestures to the side, and Damian tilts his head, as the man who had been standing off to the other side steps into the stall to get a better look. Tim’s cock is in fact very hard, drooling wetly from the tip, a flushed red color. He must be extremely aroused.
“Oh, he is,” the other man agrees. He glances over at Damian, meeting his watchful gaze. “My turn?”
This man must believe that Tim is Damian’s somehow. Damian wonders what it is that gave that particular impression. Perhaps Damian’s expression, or his posture. The stranger is asking Damian’s permission, as though Damian were in charge of this scene. In charge of Timothy’s well-being. Of making certain that Timothy is only used in ways he desires, and no further. What an attractive notion.
It’s a role that comes entirely too easily to Damian, and he doesn’t hesitate in his response. It’s clear what Timothy wants, and Damian is all too pleased to watch beautiful Timothy be used like a public whore. Especially when it’s clear that Tim wants it so desperately.
“Be my guest,” Damian replies, gesturing the man forwards.
The first man steps out of the stall, and the new man moves forward to take his place behind Tim, grabbing his own condom. Damian leans up against the wall inside the stall, crossing his arms in front of him. Tim is barely two feet away from him, all spread out and ready for the taking. All Tim would have to do to discover Damian watching him would be to turn his head slightly to the side and open his eyes. But he doesn’t.
As the second man fucks him, Tim makes these beautiful, high, soft noises, whimpering and eagerly nodding his agreement when the man asks if he wants to keep going. He’s so beautifully responsive, his entire body clearly thrumming with pleasure, rocking back in his desire to be fucked harder.
“That’s so nice, baby. What a good boy you are,” the man says in between heavy breaths, fucking rough and fast into Tim’s little hole.
Damian would have to be blind to miss the way Tim’s entire body shudders violently at those words, his entire body quivering just from this strangers’ few words of praise. It’s like discovering a piece of a fascinating puzzle, unraveling what makes Tim’s head tick. Another delicious little secret of Timothy’s. The thought is intoxicating.
As the second person keeps fucking Tim, Damian settles in to watch the show. He’s not going to miss a second of this. Damian wonders just how many men Tim can take before he’s too worn out and well-used to take any more. How thoroughly his pretty hole can be fucked by the small crowd of men gathering. What sort of noise Timothy might make if he comes while being fucked, while having his little hole used for others’ pleasure.
Damian’s looking forward to finding out.
…
Afterwards, Tim is so clearly exhausted. Happily, contentedly so, but still. Entirely too vulnerable, worn out and depleted, entirely the opposite of his usual quick wit.
It would be much, much more difficult to leave him than it is to gently clean up both Tim’s body and the equipment. Damian wonders what Tim’s plan was for aftercare. He didn’t come here with a partner and doesn’t appear to have any other sort of arrangement. Damian highly suspects he was intending to clean himself up, and travel home entirely alone, in his worn out and depleted state.
The thought rankles.
Timothy is so beautiful like this, covered in the evidence of his own pleasure, his hole gaping slightly from being fucked so thoroughly. His expression is still so relaxed, and a bit dreamlike, having clearly reached a state of mind that Damian’s never seen him even come close to before. Damian has no desire for that state to be interrupted. Even if perhaps an honest conversation between them is somewhat overdue. To let Tim go off on his own like this seems utterly unbearable. Damian is loathe to have Timothy part from his arms even for a moment. But the room does require cleaning, and Damian will of course handle that task, so as to allow Tim his rest.
When it’s finished, and Timothy is back safely in his arms, it’s the easiest thing in the world to meet his lips in a kiss like Tim silently begs him for, to place a hand on the back of Tim’s skull and move their mouth together slowly and sweetly for what seems like a delicious little eternity.
Eventually, Tim pulls back and looks up at Damian. His expression is so sweet and open, full of trust. It tugs almost painfully on Damian’s heart.
“Yes?” Damian asks, stroking Tim’s hair again.
Tim’s smiled is tired but genuine. “Take me home.”
“Of course,” Damian murmurs. He pulls Tim’s head forwards slightly so he can press another gentle kiss to Tim’s forehead. Then, he wraps an arm around Tim’s shoulder and starts steering him down the corridor. “Let’s get you to bed.”
Tim leans his head into Damian’s chest heavily. Damian’s struck by how much shorter than him Tim is, now that they’re standing side by side. It’s a stark difference, to say nothing of how slim Tim is in comparison, how easily Damian’s arm wraps entirely around him. They pass out of the back section with the stalls and into the main room of the club, slowly making their way towards the front.
“I have things in a locker,” Tim mumbles.
Damian nods, and takes them in that direction. The changing room here is luckily not so brightly lit as most gym locker rooms. Damian’s grateful for that at the moment, not wanting to shock Tim out of his current headspace. Tim finds his locker and retrieves his belongings, tugging on a shirt and a pair of jeans over his red shorts. Damian frowns a bit at his clothing choices. He sincerely doubts that’s particularly comfortable in Tim’s current condition. Damian feels quite compelled to get Tim out of those rough, heavy jeans as quickly as possible, and wrap him up in soft, soothing blankets.
Tim blinks up at Damian again. “Did you drive here?”
“Yes,” Damian replies. He takes Tim by the hand and guides him towards the exit. The two of them step out onto the curb, into the dark Gotham night. “Did you?”
Tim shakes his head. Damian cannot decide whether this was a smart decision, as Timothy is clearly not in any condition to drive at the moment. Or alternatively, a terrible one, considering he is also in no condition to defend himself were anything to befall him while walking Gotham’s streets alone at night. Not to mention the increased likelihood of being spotted by any nosy vigilantes of their mutual acquaintance, who are roaming the roofs of Gotham even as they speak. Damian harbors no delusions that Barbara is not aware of the current location of his car, parked in a nearby garage. But that is infinitely preferable to a run-in with Dick after a casual encounter, who would certainly be concerned for the well-being of any friend found walking alone at night in civilian clothing. Or, much worse, a run-in with his father.
At any rate, Damian’s car isn’t terribly far away, and they make it down the block to the parking garage without any incident. Damian opens the passenger side door for Tim, and Tim climbs inside, immediately curling up on the seat and tucking his head to the side. Damian wishes he had a blanket or a heavy coat to wrap him in, but that will just have to wait.
Damian gets into the driver’s seat and starts the car. He looks over at Tim, whose eyes are closed, his expression still one of dreamy contentment. Damian wonders if Timothy usually forces himself out of his headspace in the aftermath of his encounters, or if he wanders home like this. Either option is utterly reprehensible. But if Damian had to guess, it would be the former. Tim has always had a deft level of control over his mental powers.
They make the drive in relative silence, apart from the general noises of the city and the quiet purring of the engine. Tim dozes on and off. Something warm and tight happens in Damian’s chest, seeing how easily Tim trusts him, how willing he is to fall asleep in the front seat of Damian’s car. Tim, usually so sharp and vigilant, so perceptive and alert, has chosen to let his guard entirely down, to remain in his trancelike state while under Damian’s power.
That is not lost on Damian.
Damian glances over, and is struck by how utterly vulnerable Tim looks in this moment. The thought has such force it’s like a blow to the head.
Damian keeps driving.
It’s almost like an ache, how intently Damian wishes to keep Tim safe. A strange, reckless impulse to do something drastic in order to ensure it. A foolish thought, considering Tim’s own significant skill set. And yet. Damian feels… deeply honored, that Tim allowed Damian to escort him safely home. More, that Tim agreed to be driven to Damian’s apartment, instead of his own. Damian feels a sudden, wild urge to lock Tim in his bedroom and not let him ever leave, to keep him safe and coddled, like a favorite pet.
Damian’s fingers tighten on the steering wheel, and he lets out a slow, controlled breath. It’s the aftermath of the scene, he knows. The adrenaline, the heightened emotions. Damian will feel more at ease once he’s able to hold Tim again, once they’re both able to slowly ease out of their headspaces. It’s just… unexpected. Damian hadn’t been planning on anything quite so intense for this evening. He needs something grounding, to bring him back into his head.
Damian reaches a hand over and squeezes Tim’s arm gently, reassuring himself that Tim’s alright. Tim squirms a little, huffing out a breath of air, shifting on the seat to move his head to rest against the window. He’s just fine.
When they reach the garage for Damian’s downtown apartment, Damian considers Tim’s sleeping form briefly. Well. It wouldn’t do to wake him.
Damian goes around to Tim’s side of the car, opens the door and leans in to unbuckle Timothy’s seatbelt. Then, he bundles Tim up into his arms, pushes the car door shut with an elbow, and carries him towards the elevator.
Tim is easy to carry. He’s all densely-packed muscle, but still so much smaller than Damian. And of course, Damian is accustomed to carrying civilians out of danger. Though this is a much more pleasant application of that particular skill.
They get inside of Damian’s apartment, and Damian carries Tim all the way to his bed, setting him down on it gently. Tim murmurs something and blinks, waking up slightly.
“Shhhhh,” Damian says softly. Tim sits up on the bed and leans heavily into Damian’s arms. Damian presses him back gently. “Let’s get you out of these, shall we?”
“Mm’kay,” Tim mumbles.
Damian removes the jeans and t-shirt from Tim’s body, tugging as gently as he can. Tim does his best to help, lifting up for him as Damian asks him to. They get down to those tight little red shorts and Damian pauses.
“Do you want to leave these on?” Damian asks.
Tim shakes his head blearily, looking up at Damian. He blinks a few times, and it looks like he’s starting to come up. “Pajamas?”
Damian nods. “I’ll find you some.” Anything of Damian’s will be entirely too large for Tim, but there’s a few of Dick’s things tucked away, and those are at least closer to Tim’s correct size. Damian finds a pair of Dick’s sweatpants that are worn and soft, then gives into the temptation to give Tim one of his own shirts, despite the fact that Tim will be fairly swimming in it. The thought is just too appealing. Damian helps Tim to wriggle out of the little boy shorts and dress him in the pajamas. Once that’s done, Damian tosses back the covers and lays Tim down on his bed.
Tim curls up into the fetal position, and Damian pulls the covers over him. Tim turns his head to look up at Damian, a questioning expression on his face. He’s more present now than when Damian pulled him off the bench, but still looks sort of soft and sleepy.
“I’ll be right back,” Damian promises.
Damian grabs a pair of shorts from the dresser, then goes into the bathroom to change. As he’s pulling his jeans off, his fingers brush against something hard in the pocket. Right. Tim’s plug. Damian washes the plug with soap and water, then sets it on the bathroom counter to dry.
Damian makes a round of the apartment. He checks for any alerts from Barbara or the others, goes to each door and window to ensure they are all properly closed and locked, and arms the alarms. Once Damian is as satisfied as he can be with his security, he makes a quick trip to the kitchen to fetch two glasses of water, then goes to join Tim in the bed.
Damian sets the glasses down on the nightstand, clicks the lamp off, and folds one corner of the comforter back. He lays down behind Tim, wrapping Tim’s body in his arms, pulling him close so that Tim’s back is flush with Damian’s front.
Tim makes a pleased hum. “You’re back.” He nuzzles backwards into Damian’s embrace, tips his head back onto Damian’s shoulder, and brings one arm behind to take Damian’s hand.
Damian squeezes Tim’s hand back. “I’m back. I said I would be.” Oh, but this is so much better, being able to cradle Tim’s body against his own, seeing him safely resting in Damian’s own bed. “Sleep now. I’ll hold you just like this. You just rest.”
Tim nods against Damian’s chest. “Okay, Dami.” It comes out softly, barely more than a breath. But it’s more than enough.
Damian lies there in the dark for a long while, just enjoying the feeling of Tim’s warm body wrapped in his arms, feeling the gentle rise and fall of Tim’s breaths. He waits for Timothy’s breathing to even out and grow deeper, for his body to go fully lax in Damian’s arms. Only when Damian is satisfied that Tim is fully asleep and resting peacefully does Damian close his own eyes, allowing sleep to overtake him.
…
When Damian wakes up the next morning, he’s alone in his bed.
It takes him a moment to remember why he’s disappointed by that.
The other side of the bed is still rumpled and tossed from where Tim got out of bed, and his scent clings to the sheets. Damian takes a deep breath, and then pushes himself up, moving to get ready for his day. He’s halfway to the bathroom when he realizes there’s another smell in the apartment. It’s strong coffee. Something flutters in Damian’s stomach at that. Something like hope.
Damian makes his way out to the kitchen, and sees Tim curled up on his couch, one of the throw blankets tucked tightly around his shoulders. He’s cradling a mug in both hands, and still looks half-asleep, the way he often does before his coffee really starts to take effect. As Damian walks in, Tim looks up at him, and then immediately blushes. “Um. Hi.”
“Good morning,” Damian says, for lack of anything better to say. There’s sort of a short, awkward pause, and Tim glances back down, into his coffee cup. Damian walks the rest of the way into the kitchen, fetches a mug from a cupboard, and pours his own cup of coffee from the French press sitting on the counter. He turns around to lean back against the counter, taking a long sip, savoring the burning hot feeling, the bitter flavor. “Breakfast? I was thinking omelets.”
“Sure,” Tim says.
Damian sets the coffee mug back down and goes to the fridge, pulling out eggs, milk, and cheese. He gets a pan out on the stove and cuts a bit of butter to grease it with, starts cracking eggs and whisking them up as the pan heats.
Tim gets up off the couch and comes into the kitchen, leaning his elbows down on the other side of the island from Damian, still holding his coffee cup in both hands. “I didn’t know you went to that club. I’ve never seen you there before.”
Damian pauses beating the eggs with a fork for a moment and looks over his shoulder at Tim. Tim’s still wearing Damian’s shirt. The navy-blue fabric hangs loosely over him, draping over his torso. The sight of Tim in his clothes is… just as appealing as it was last night. “I’ve never seen you there before either.”
Tim shrugs, and Damian turns his attention back to the task at hand. “We don’t usually have the same nights off.”
“No,” Damian agrees, getting the grater out of the drawer and grating some cheddar cheese into the bowl of egg and milk mixture. “Do you go there often?”
Tim laughs. “Did you really just ask if I come here often?”
Damian snorts. “I think we’re well past the point of pickup lines.”
“Fair enough,” Tim says. Damian glances over at him again and Tim’s smiling, taking another drink of coffee. “But yeah, often enough. When I get the chance.”
“Likewise,” Damian says, pouring half the egg mixture into the now-hot pan. It sizzles, and the smell of eggs and frying butter fills the kitchen, mingling with the rich, dark smell of coffee.
“Yeah?” Tim asks. “What do you usually go there for?”
Damian shrugs. “It depends on the night. Something to watch, or someone to scene with.” He turns and leans against the counter, looking at Tim. “And you? What’s your usual poison?”
Tim goes slightly pink, running his fingers through his own hair sheepishly. “Well. You saw it last night, I guess.” Tim knocks back the last of his coffee and crosses the kitchen to pour himself another cup.
“I thought as much,” Damian says. He takes a spatula, and folds one side of the omelet in by a third, then does the same to the other side, like folding a letter for an envelope. He pulls open one of the cupboards, pulls out a plate, and slides the omelet onto it, turning to hand the plate to Tim.
“Thanks,” Tim says. He takes the plate and sets it on the island, digging a fork out of the drawer and starts eating it.
Damian turns back to the pan, cutting another pat of butter into it and watching it melt and start to bubble. There’s a comfortable silence for a while, as Tim eats his breakfast and Damian busies himself with making his own omelet. There’s something very soothing about getting to feed Tim right now, after the events of the last night, and Damian basks in the feeling
Tim eventually breaks the silence with “You didn’t have to carry me home, you know.”
Damian isn’t exactly surprised by the self-effacing bullshit. But that does not make it any less of bullshit. “Firstly, it was the only decent thing I could have done.” Tim opens his mouth to say something, and Damian cuts him off. “And secondly, I wanted to.”
Tim closes his mouth, looking thoughtful, and nods. Damian flips his omelet into thirds and fetches his own fork. Tim finishes his own omelet, sets his plate in the sink, and goes to pour himself a third cup of coffee as Damian eats his breakfast.
“When did you show up, anyway?” Tim asks.
“Before you did,” Damian says. “I was watching one of the stages when you came in.”
Tim raises his eyebrows at him. “And what, you followed me back there?”
“Yes.”
Tim fairly shudders at that, gripping onto the counter like he needs it to balance. And oh, Damian just drinks in the sight. Such a beautiful reaction, and just at the thought of Damian seeking him out. It’s gorgeous, truly. “I followed you back there, and I saw everything.”
Tim swallows hard. “Everything?”
“Everything,” Damian says. He crosses to the sink to put his own empty plate inside and runs water over the dishes. He turns back to Tim and leans back against the counter. “What is it you like about it?”
Tim tilts his head to the side thoughtfully. “It’s. Well. I like to please people. I get off on that.” He takes a little breath, and Damian tries not to be too distracted by the way he bites his lip, the teeth digging in to the soft skin. Damian wants to bite those lips himself. “I like. I like to be used.” Tim hesitates, and his grip tightens on the mug. “I like being useful. Being good for people. I like getting a break from having to think, I guess.” Tim huffs out a little laugh. “Plus, I just like being fucked, so.”
Damian smiles at him, and Tim catches his gaze and smiles back. “What about you?”
Damian gives a thoughtful hum. “Part of it is the power trip.”
Tim snorts into his mug. “Color me surprised.”
Damian rolls his eyes. “Oh, shut up.” Tim grins but gestures at him to continue, and Damian goes on. “But part of it is using that power to… protect. To nurture. To give pleasure, to give someone what they’re craving.” Damian breathes slowly in, slowly out. Timothy knows his past. He doesn’t have to pretend. “I have no wish to tear anyone down ever again.”
Tim nods like that makes sense, and Damian certainly hopes it does. Tim takes another long sip of coffee, and not for the first time, Damian wonders how on earth he possibly drinks that much of it.
“You weren’t in any state to get yourself home last night,” Damian says abruptly.
He’s not expecting it to be received well, and it certainly isn’t. Tim’s face hardens. “I can take care of myself.”
“In your usual state of mind? Inarguably,” Damian agrees easily. “However. Don’t pretend like you could have defended yourself last night if things had gone poorly.”
Tim sighs heavily, setting his mug back down on the counter, but he doesn’t argue the point.
“Look, I’m not going to give you a lecture,” Damian says. “You already know the risks you’re taking.”
“Are you going to tell me I shouldn’t?” Tim asks, looking intently at Damian.
“Of course not,” Damian says. Tim blinks in mild surprise. “I think you should have someone watching your back, when you do things like that. But I’d never tell you to stop.” Damian pushes himself up off the counter and takes a step closer. Tim keeps his gaze locked with Damian’s the whole time, and Damian doesn’t look away.
“Are you volunteering?” Tim asks. “To watch my back.”
“Always,” Damian says.
Tim takes in a sharp intake of breath. “And. Last night, when we.”
“When I fucked you?” Damian asks, with just the hint of a smirk.
Tim gives a small chuckle, and smirks right back. “Okay. When you fucked me.” He takes a little step forwards towards Damian, till they’re only a few feet apart. “Are you volunteering to do that again too?”
“Yes,” Damian says.
Tim bites his lip again. “And you’re not going to tell me to stop letting strange men fuck me in clubs?”
Damian takes one step closer, closing the distance between them, and reaches down to wrap one arm around Timothy’s waist. “How could I ask you to do that? When I see how much you love it. How much you need it.”
Tim’s eyes have gone half-lidded, and he nods.
“Oh, I’d never ask you for that,” Damian says in a low, dark voice. “I’d never want to. I told you, you’re beautiful like that.” He uses the arm around Tim to pull him in close, and Tim comes, reaches his arms up behind Damian’s neck naturally, as though they’ve done this before a thousand times. Tim’s so small in Damian’s arms, in Damian’s clothes, and it only makes Damian want to fuck him again. “I don’t want to stop you. I want to watch it again. I want to keep you safe while you do it. I want to use you again, and watch them wreck you, watch them take you apart. And then I want to bring you home to my bed and put you together again.”
Tim lets out a low moan, and if Damian wasn’t hard before, he is now, listening to the helpless little noise Timothy makes, feeling the way he presses his own little body up against Damian’s. “Dami.” Tim surges upwards, lifting up on his toes, and Damian ducks down to kiss him thoroughly, deep and filthy, fucking his tongue into Tim’s mouth and biting those perfect soft pink lips.
“Yes,” Tim breathes out between kisses. “Yes, please, Dami, I want-” Damian chooses that moment to push his knee between Tim’s legs, and Tim lets out a pretty little mewling noise, grinding his hard cock against Damian’s thigh. “Fuck me, Dami, I want it.”
Damian pulls back, holding Tim an arm’s length away with a hand on his shoulder. “You’re certain? You’re not too sore after last night?” Damian asks. He cocks his head to the side slightly. “I don’t wish to injure you.”
Tim gives a breathless little grin. “You said injure.”
Damian tilts his head to the side in question.
“You didn’t say hurt.” Tim looks hopeful, and he slides his hands down from the back of Damian’s neck to rest on Damian’s bare chest, running his fingers over the skin there. “You don’t want to injure me. But you do want to hurt me?”
Damian pauses briefly. “Not the way I used to.” It’s a double-edged confession, and it’s uncomfortable to say. Damian slowly, hesitantly, cups the back of Timothy’s head with one hand, cradling it gently as he speaks to him. “I do want to hurt you. But only in the ways you desire.”
Tim reaches down to grab Damian’s other hand. His grip is firm, his fingers warm. Tim raises Damian’s arm, brings his hand to Tim’s throat, and carefully, with his own hands, wraps Damian’s fingers around his throat. “Then fuck me.”
Damian tightens the hold, giving a firm grip on Timothy’s neck, digging his fingers into the places that will cut off flow of blood to the brain. Tim goes utterly lax under Damian’s grip, and his own hands fall from Damian’s wrist to hang limply at his sides.
It’s a beautiful display of submission. Damian wants more of it.
“As you wish,” Damian says. His voice comes out hoarse and raspy, an octave lower than it usually is at least. “Come here.” He pulls Tim towards him by the throat, and Tim stumbles a few steps forward, blinking up at him with these adoring eyes as he moves to do as he’s told, tripping over his feet to please Damian. It’s more than gratifying.
Damian slowly leads Tim to his bedroom, not letting go of his grip on Tim’s throat, pushing and shoving him into place. Once they get there, Damian throws Tim down onto the bed and Tim falls onto his back, limbs spread, looking up at Damian with wide, adoring eyes, just waiting. It’s a perfectly delicious look on him.
“So gorgeous,” Damian says. He leans down to kiss Tim again, and Tim gives another soft moan into his mouth then sends a fissure of heat right to Damian’s cock. Damian moves his hand to Tim’s face, gripping around his chin and sliding a finger into his mouth. Tim sucks on it as Damian moves his finger in and out of Tim’s mouth, and he’s looking up at Damian with an expression of such excitement and trust that Damian can hardly stand it. “Such a pretty mouth. Do you ever let those men use your pretty mouth?”
Tim nods, giving a muffled moan around Damian’s finger.
“Hmmm,” Damian muses. Then he shakes his head, drawing his finger back. “You can suck my cock another time. Right now I want to see how well-used your pretty hole is.”
“Yes, Dami,” Tim breathes out. His eyes are just starting to glaze over, already slipping down. He’s fucking incredible, just perfect. Damian slips his hands under the hem of the too-big shirt of his that Tim’s wearing, and Tim raises his arms above his head, letting Damian pull it off. The sweatpants are next, and Damian quickly tugs them off, leaving Timothy naked and vulnerable in his bed, looking up at him with these precious doe eyes.
“So pretty,” Damian murmurs. He leans down to give Tim another kiss, and Tim just melts into it, clearly soaking up every bit of attention Damian gives him. “Turn over and show me your hole.”
Tim obeys, rolling over to get on his knees, pressing his head and shoulders down into the pillow, and reaching back to spread his cheeks apart, giving Damian the perfect view.
Damian reaches into the nightstand and grabs a bottle of lube and a condom, shoves his own shorts off, and climbs into bed behind Tim. “That’s it. You’re doing so well, hold yourself just like that.”
“Yes, Dami,” Tim says softly. It’s almost reverent, and it makes Damian’s heart pound.
Tim’s hole is a little pink still, but not quite as fucked out and wrecked looking as it was last night. Damian slicks up a finger and starts to rub at Tim’s hole, just teasing around the outside. “How does that feel?”
Tim gives a little whimper. “Feels good.”
“Do you want my fingers inside you?” Damian asks.
“Yes please,” Tim begs. “Please, wanna be full again, wanna be fucked.”
“Oh, poor thing,” Damian purrs. He pushes one finger inside of Tim, and it goes easily, that soft heat swallowing him up. Damian can’t wait to feel it around his cock again. “Seven cocks weren’t enough for you? You need to get fucked again? Need to be used by more men like the little toy you are?”
Tim cries out as Damian pumps his finger in and out of Tim’s hole. “Yes, Dami, please. Please use me. Please give me to them and let them use me again. I need to be fucked, I need to be full.”
Damian adds a second finger and crooks them, pushing till he finds the spot that makes Tim sob out. “Don’t worry, I will. I’ll give you what you need. Such a whore for cock. So perfect.”
Tim gives another pretty little whimper, and he relaxes around Damian’s fingers, taking the finger fucking easily now. Damian slides his fingers out and starts to tear the condom open.
Tim looks up over his shoulder at him. “You don’t need that.”
Damian frowns, reaching down to pet at Timothy’s shoulder. “Are you certain?”
Tim blushes hard, biting his lip again. “Yes, I’m sure, I just- please, Damian, please let me feel you?”
Damian leans down and gives Tim another kiss. Oh, but how can he say no to that begging voice, the pretty, desperate little cockslut. “You want to feel it? Want to feel my bare cock, want to feel my come inside your needy little hole?”
Tim nods frantically. “Please let me have it, Dami?”
Damian gives a low growl and leans back. He kneels behind Tim and straddles Tim’s legs. He gets the bottle of lube again, slicking up his cock before lining it up with Tim’s hole, pressing the very tip against Tim’s entrance without pushing inside. “Needy little fucktoy. Beg me to give you what you need.”
“Please,” Tim begs. “Please fuck me, please use me, please make me your toy, Damian, I just want to be a good toy for you, please give me your cock.”
Damian pushes forwards, and gives a low groan as he sinks into Tim’s tight, perfect heat. “Good boy.”
“Thank you,” Tim sobs out into the pillow, still holding himself open for Damian. “Thank you, thank you.”
Damian grabs Tim’s wrists and pulls them away, pinning them onto the bed next to Tim’s head. “Good little whore.” He starts to move, fucking in and out of Tim. He should maybe be gentle, giving how much Tim has taken in the past several hours. But Tim doesn’t want him to be gentle. He wants to be used. And Damian is happy to oblige.
Damian shoves all the way in and pulls most of the way out, giving Tim long, deep strokes. It feels so good, having a hot, wet little hole to fuck. Tim whimpers pitifully into the pillow, and Damian snaps his hips in hard. “Does it hurt? Is your poor little hole sore, from letting all those men fuck you last night? From letting all of us take you like the little bitch you are, from letting anyone who wanted to use you like a little cocksleeve?”
Tim nods into the pillow, whimpering. “Yes, it’s sore, I- oh fuck, Damian, please more, it hurts so good, I love it, I need it, please-”
Damain fucks into him harder, grabbing tightly at Tim’s hips for leverage, hard enough to leave handprint bruises. “Such a good bitch. My own good little fucktoy.”
“Yes please,” Tim gasps. “Please, I’m just your toy, use me whenever you want to, Damian, please?”
“Whenever I want?” Damian says, breathing heavily, fucking into Tim hard. “As many times as I want?”
Tim cries out, pushing his hips back into Damian’s thrusts. “Whenever you want, anywhere you want, please Damian, please, I’ll be such a good toy, I promise, please!”
The words go straight to Damian’s cock and he moans, long and low, fucking roughly into Tim’s poor abused little hole. “So good. My favorite little cocksleeve. Going to use you to come, going to come right in your little hole.”
“Please,” Tim begs. “Please Dami? Please give me your come, I want to feel it, please use me to come, please-”
Damian comes hard with a groan, burying himself as deep as he can in Tim’s perfect sweet hole and filling him up with come, his vision blurring as everything goes to just pure bliss, pure pleasure.
When he finds his voice again, Damian rasps out, “Good fucktoy.” He reaches down to rub at Tim’s shoulders soothingly, and Tim gives a helpless little whine. Damian pulls out, and reaches down to replace his cock with three fingers, fucking them in and out of Tim’s little hole, which is all wet and messy with Damian’s come, dripping all over Damian’s fingers, the bed, Tim’s thighs. With his other hand, Damian reaches around to Tim’s cock and starts stroking it.
“Good fucktoy,” Damian says, fucking his fingers into Tim’s hole with one hand, jerking his cock off with the other. “Such a good boy for me. Such a pretty cumslut. All covered in my come, so beautiful. I bet you’d like it if they could all do that, wouldn’t you? If all those strange men at the club could come right in your slutty little hole.”
Tim whimpers and nods, and Damian crooks his fingers harder, rubbing relentlessly at Tim’s prostate. “Ah- ah! Yes, want- oh, wanna be a cumdump, Dami please-”
“You’d look so pretty all covered in come,” Damian says darkly. “Show them just what a pretty slut you are. Just a public cumdump, a pretty little cocksleeve for everyone to fuck and come in. Our perfect little toy.”
Tim comes with a scream, his hole clenching down on Damian’s fingers, cock twitching against Damian’s palm, spraying come all over the sheets beneath him. It’s completely gorgeous.
“So good,” Damian murmurs. He pulls his fingers out, and rubs at Tim’s back, soft and soothing. “Such a good boy for me, you did so well.”
Tim makes a soft little noise, rolling onto his side and nuzzling into the pillow, and it tugs at Damian's heart. “Give me just a minute,” Damian says.
Damian goes into the bathroom and gets a washcloth, runs some warm water over it then wrings it out so it’s just damp. He also grabs a clean dry towel, and Tim’s plug from where it’s resting on the bathroom counter.
When he gets back, Tim is blinking sweetly up at him, looking just as soft and open and wrecked as he did last night. Damian can’t help but be pleased that he did that, that he managed to get Tim into that state. He crawls back onto the bed, lays the clean towel down on the wet spot, and then wraps Tim up in his arms again.
Tim cuddles in close, making a soft, happy little noise that’s entirely too precious.
“Tim,” Damian asks gently. “Do you want your plug again?”
Tim shivers in his arms and nods. “Yes please. Wanna be full still.”
Damian reaches down and slowly works the plug into Tim, and Tim takes it easily, making these quiet little moaning noises. Next, Damian wipes Tim’s front, thighs and ass down with the warm washcloth, cleaning up all the lube and come before it can dry and get sticky. He sets the dirty washcloth down on the nightstand for the moment, and lays back on the bed. Tim tucks his head onto Damian’s chest, and Damian holds him close in his arms, keeping him nice and safe.
“There you go,” Damian murmurs. He presses a kiss to the top of Tim’s head. “Isn’t that better. All plugged up full of come. Kept full and stretched so you can be used again later.”
Tim lets out a whine, shuddering against Damian’s chest, and looks up at him. “You really mean it?”
Damian leans down and gives Tim a long, slow, sweet kiss. “Promise. As much as you want, and no more. And we can go to the club again as often as you like.”
Tim’s smile is so purely happy that Damian can’t help but smile back. “Okay.”
Damian gives Tim one more kiss for good measure. “Rest now. I’ve got you.”
Tim closes his eyes and relaxes into Damian’s hold. “Yeah. You’ve got me.”
Damian smiles again, rubbing gently at Tim’s back with his thumb, watching his back rise and fall with his breath. Damian’s looking forward to making good on that promise. As many times as Tim wants him to. And always returning to this, soft and safe in Damian’s arms, in Damian’s bed.
Damian’s really glad he went to the club last night.